


Halfway in a Dream

by Articianne



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, F/M, Knotting, Quintessence!Lotor, ish, not corrupted lotor he's just not real, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 15:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17082626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Articianne/pseuds/Articianne
Summary: “How?” she demanded.They stood silently across from each other in her room, Allura’s fingers begging to be released from the tight fists at her sides. Lotor took no steps forward, waiting for her to make the leap on her own. With a deep breath that rattled straight into her chest, she placed a foot ahead—and saw him cock his head slightly toward her.“I can show you,” he told her. “I can show you all of it.”-- S8 spoilers. Takes place during E8: Clear Day.





	Halfway in a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> don't mind me. I'm coping!
> 
> alien biology in this fic: allura's vag is a happy little flex muscle that can keep whatever it wants locked right in. Lotor's got a sheath for his dick and a knot, of course. The standard stuff. 
> 
> in this house, we say fuck.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, her surroundings were quiet. It appeared, lately, that there was always something someone needed from her, either her attention, her opinion, or just her time. Allura couldn’t remember when was the last time she ever had a moment to herself when the others weren’t around. If it wasn’t the paladins, it was the MFE girls; if it wasn’t the MFE girls, it was the Garrison; if it wasn’t the Garrison, it was Romelle and the Alteans; if it wasn’t them, it was Lance. Allura sat on her bed, eyes locked onto the juniberry flower that Colleen had given her. She had time now to rest… but she had a strong, _strong_ feeling that—as she’d been feeling a lot recently—no matter how much she’d slept, she’d want to stay in bed some more.

Her fingers tapped along her sheets. Her reflection in the mirror above the juniberry flower only made her feel even colder. Weary eyes, downturned lips… a barely-kept-together appearance, something she’d have worked more towards phoebs ago.

“Alright, Allura,” she told herself, her fingers curling into fists against her bed. “Rest. Get some rest. Everyone will need you at your best when they get back.”

Limbs protested with fatigue as she slipped beneath her covers, staring at the built-in shelf in her wall beside her bed. There was a lamp there for her to turn on when she would normally opt for less light in the room, but she couldn’t bring herself to get up and turn off the other lights. Other books lined the shelf, things that weren’t hers. Anything that was hers was left in Blue. She’d never gotten around to getting them off when they’d lost the Castle of Lions.

The Castle.

Allura squeezed her eyes shut, saw the ballroom, saw her bedroom. Saw the canopy of stars. She opened her eyes again, a tightness lingering in her throat as she focused on the unlit lamp. “Sleep,” she said to herself, barely able to manage the word. She tried closing her eyes again. The ballroom—an extended hand, a request to learn a dance from her when no one was around. Her bedroom, where there had been a knock on her door and barely-contained excitement of plans about the unification of the empire. The stars from the viewport on the bridge, a soft voice with a lilt of concern bringing her a warm liquid they’d both come to enjoy called “hot chocolate”.

“Sleep,” Allura said again to herself, firmly, and focused her thoughts on the paladins. Keith, spending time with Krolia and Kolivan, dragging her and Shiro to discuss plans about the Blade. Coran encouraging her to spend time with Romelle.

Her eyelids began to droop. Hunk bringing her heart-shaped cookies of her and Lance while Pidge had to be encouraged to bring along a beverage with it. Lance with an arm draped over her shoulder, smiling happily at cadets who pass by with wishes of goodwill.

She woke up sometime after that, the lights in her room still on. She had, at some point, turned onto her back, wishing greatly that there was a weight beside her in her bed, a presence she’d had on the Castle of Lions when they would fall asleep with the latest treaty between them taking their discussions late into the night—

Allura blinked. Lance was in her room.

He had a hand up against the petals of the juniberry flower, not looking at her. Was he back from Clear Day? But he looked so out of—out of place.

“Lance?” she asked. He made no movements at her voice. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to the carnival.”

Still, Lance watched the juniberry. “That’s a beautiful flower,” he said, almost sadly. His hand fell from the petals to his side. “Where did you get it?”

“Colleen gave it to me.” Why wasn’t he looking at her? “It’s a real juniberry flower. I assumed they had gone extinct.”

There was a beat of silence, one that filled her to her very toes. Something was off and Allura felt it run through her veins, ice-cold and burning hot all at once. But maybe it would pass—she had been feeling off so much lately anyway, and—

“You should know better than anyone,” said Lotor, and her blood rushed into her ears, thumping into her vision, “nothing ever truly goes extinct.”

At once, he was there by her bed. Exactly as she remembered him. His feet, though new at learning this royal Altean dance, learning quickly as she led him through the ballroom. His hips mimicking the curve of hers as they laid side-by-side on her sheets in the Castle, exchanging dreams of Altea and what the future could hold. His large hands spreading one of hers out in his palm as she watched, entranced, as if he mapped the stars in the viewport in front of them on her very skin.

But his look was cold.

“It’s good to see you again, Princess,” he told her, eyes deadened against her own. She steeled herself, knowing the last time he’d had that look was inevitably when he’d decided to open fire against the lions after she’d learned what Romelle had told them about the colony. She’d dreamed of that many, many times.

And yet no matter how many times she’d imagined that look in her dreams, the guilt sagging through her like the Castle’s crystal form, it couldn’t compare to this. “How? _How_ did you get in here?”

His head turned toward the juniberry flower by the mirror, where Lance had once been. She had no time to wonder where Lance had gone—she was waiting for something, _anything_ to happen so she could call her bayard. To get him to step a little further away. Even so, Lotor’s figure remained shock still, his look only facing the flower. “You know,” he said in the same lilt she’d missed for so long, “the ancients believed that all of life began with a single juniberry flower.”

Her nerves jumped ahead of her. The bayard curved from nothing into her hand, the whip snaking out against his figure, to maybe get rid of him and the weight that heaved into her limbs—

Lotor vanished even as the whip left sparking lashes against her tiles. He reappeared further away in the other corner of her room. Allura hadn’t noticed her heavy breathing until her whip rescinded back into her bayard, and Lotor, as if knowing every thought in her head, said, “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

She wasn’t happy!

“What are you doing here? I demand to know!”

She—she’d _used_ —she’d used to be happy—

And he looked very much like he knew that fact. “You and I desire the same thing,” said Lotor. He was as still as the juniberry on her counter, which had somehow remained miraculously untouched when Allura had drawn her bayard. Lotor’s eyes never strayed from hers. “We both seek to destroy Haggar.”

“ _Haggar_? Haggar is no longer.” He looked as if he’d expected her to say this. “She’s Honerva now.” There was no mention to how she knew this; it seemed silly explaining it to him, when he showed up speaking riddles and playing tricks on her mind. The thudding in her ears began to slow as she realized, on some level, he was not there to raise a hand against her.  _He never had been, you fool,_ said a traitorous voice in her mind, which Allura promptly shut out.

Lotor looked to his left, as if contemplating the plant at her side. “True,” he said. “Though I could rename this a highlands poppy, you and I would still know what it truly is.” He was entertaining her, Allura knew it. He had always been prone to doing so, to explain to her his views before giving her his opinion… even as they stood opposing each other. She glanced at the juniberry, vaguely noting its petals had become a tinge paler in the last couple dobashes.

“The witch may change her name, but she will always be a witch,” came Lotor’s voice from ahead of her. Her stomach clenched, and for a moment, she squeezed her eyes shut—then reopened them to meet Lotor’s leveled gaze. Patient as ever, he was watching her from the shadows of her room.

“Be that as it may, she’s too powerful,” said Allura. “There’s nothing I can do to counter her abilities.”

Lotor’s eyes flashed. “You are mistaken.” She opened her mouth to interrupt, but he refused to stop. “Everything you need… is here.”

Allura’s mouth went dry.

There was so much telling her not to do it. Not to give in. She had to discuss this with the Garrison, understand where they were in the fight against Honerva. She had no idea where Lotor had even _come_ from; it was very possible she’d simply cracked from the stress, the whole reason she’d stayed behind to rest in the first place.

But this wasn’t her dreaming him up like this. She’d—she’d done that plenty of times, ashamedly on her own, wishing for moments past in a reality that seemed so far out of reach. He was _real,_ somehow, but in a way she didn’t understand.

It was real. Oh, how she’d missed it all.

“How?” she demanded.  
  
They stood silently across from each other in her room, Allura’s fingers begging to be released from the tight fists at her sides. Lotor took no steps forward, waiting for her to make the leap on her own. With a deep breath that rattled straight into her chest, she placed a foot ahead—and saw him cock his head slightly toward her.

“I can show you,” he told her. “I can show you all of it.” As she stepped even closer, her mind remembered stolen moments on her Castle, his hands deftly fixing the collar of her midday dress for a delegation and meeting for the Coalition. Even now as he stood unwavering in front of her.

Allura didn’t know what time it was. She also didn’t know if she had to care; she was only two paces from him now, and _stars_ , he was still just as beautiful as ever. And at once she was doubting he was real again. It was too lucky to have him standing here without any warning.

_No,_ she told herself. _Don’t_.

“I…” Her voice failed her as she cast a glance to his hands, solidly at his sides.

“We don’t have much time,” said Lotor, and her eyes shot back up to his. “The longer I stay, the more I drain from you.”

Allura’s brows furrowed. She felt fine, but his look turned toward the juniberry by her mirror; she followed it and saw its stem beginning to bend, its pink looking more grey than it had been.

“How are y… _oh,”_ she breathed, and at once felt relieved and utterly terrified all at once. “You’re… truly here.”

“No easy feat,” he said, though still looking guarded. “But as I said, we do not have much time. I can show you all you need to know.” For a moment, he paused, the ticks clocking by until he spoke again. “May I, Allura?”

Her head spun, eyes glazing at a time so simple so long past. She blinked it away, though he remained there, as corporeal as quintessence could be. Now that she knew what he was, she could feel it pulsing through the room, away from the juniberry. The life-giver giving itself up for him to stay with her.

“You may,” she murmured, lifting a hand to her head and pressing against her temple. “But I…”

Silently, Lotor stood and allowed her to finish, even though his time was precious.

“I have so many questions,” admitted Allura. “I can’t simply walk out and accept it all, I—I need answers.”

His lips downturned. “I won’t have the time to answer it all. There is a finite amount of quintessence here, Allura. I don’t want to use _you._ ” It might have been how long he’d been there, or maybe it was the nature of both of them and how they would act when they were alone. Though his eyes remained hard, his words were quiet. “I never did.”

Oh, _oh,_ how the words ached. Allura’s hand dropped from her temple, her arms crossing across her chest to hug at the tightness in her lungs. “Of… of course not. I…” Weakly, she took a step back, her knees hitting against her bed. “Just… just give me a moment.”

Lotor said nothing; he was likely counting the dobashes as she sat, arms wrapped around herself, giving her space. Finally, he took several steps forward, kneeling on the ground and regarding her closely. “The quintessence in your quarters is limited, Allura.”

“Of course—of course.” Her fingers relinquished their tight hold on her sleeves and she uncrossed her arms. He was so close, so real; his hair, as soft as she knew it to be, and that forelock blowing gently as she breathed to herself. His eyes on hers, those eyes who knew the corners of her mind. His hands just out of reach, as if hesitating to touch her. Those hands that knew every inch of her skin.

She swallowed. “I miss you,” said Allura, not knowing why she said it at all.

If she hadn't been watching him, she wouldn't have noticed how his slotted pupils spread open in his irises. “Allura…”

“I miss you. I miss you—I don’t know if I can trust you—”

“Allura,” he pressed, alarmed. “ _What_ is going—”

He never finished his question as she wrapped her arms around him, thanking the ancients that she was even able to feel him at all. “Lotor,” she breathed, her fingers curling into his hair, savoring what she’d missed for so long.

After a moment she felt his hands steady onto her back, so large and heavy she thought she the choking in her throat would shake into her voice. He pulled her closer, curling around her trembling frame. “I don’t have _time,_ Allura. Not here.”

“I know. I know—but if I leave here I’m scared I won’t see you again.” She drew away, inhaling shakily. “I am so, so scared.” If it had been anyone else, she’d never have dreamt of saying anything like this to them.

“Do you know what I am?” he said, nudging a claw beneath her chin. “I am nothing more than the energy around you. I _can’t_ be anything more than that. I think you may know why.”

“The rift.”

“Yes,” he said, drawing his hand away from her chin and down the length of her neck. “Though I can feel as real as I used to…” Here he stopped, his claws a breath away from the base of her neck. “I’m afraid I’m no longer what I had been.” For a moment, she saw his claws split into motes of quintessence, white and speckled in the air around her, before they solidified once more and settled back into his shape. “Wherever there is quintessence, Allura, I will be.” Over his shoulder, she saw the juniberry’s stooping figure.

“I left you there.”

He said nothing to this, regarding her carefully.

“If we’d brought you back,” continued Allura, “none of this would have happened.”

Still, he said nothing, but as she traced the curve of one of his claws with her fingers, she saw his face. “Well,” said Lotor, his long fingers twitching as she pressed her hand into the palm of his, “that is a markedly high amount of pressure to put on one individual, princess.”

“It’s true,” whispered Allura, leaning against his chest plate, their hands caught between them. “I want to trust you.”

“It will take time.” Lotor’s voice was over the crown of her head. She wondered, briefly, if he could be physically uncomfortable in a figure made of quintessence; here she had been sitting on the edge of her bed, leaning into his chest as he knelt in front of her on one knee. But he made no complaints. He never did.

_It will take time._ Time—something she had little of. Lotor seemed to know what she was thinking; he pulled away and answered her unasked question. “I suspect I may have half a varga with you in here, alone.”

“Alone,” she repeated, testing the word. “Alone,” said Allura again, softer. Lotor waited, as he always did; she took as much time as she dared, etching to memory a face she’d never wanted to forget in the first place.

“Allura,” said Lotor, and she commit to memory his voice, as well. “Everything you need is here. Take it.”

_That_ got to her more than it likely should have; she spread her fingers around the nape of his neck, into his hair, and pulled him close, the familiar mold of his lips coming home against her own. His name hung between their mouths, a hair apart, making up for lost time under the haze of quintessence that was being pumped into him in the room. It settled over her skin like a blanket. She could feel it clear as day seeping into him, keeping him tangible beneath her fingertips. Her hands splayed along the sides of his chest plate, about to undo it, when it disappeared under her fingers into specks of quintessence. Lotor rose from his knees and with a hand to her abdomen, pressed her further into the mattress.

“Ancients,” she managed, as Lotor gave her the barest uptilt of the corners of his mouth, clicking her belt open and slipping it off to the side. “You— _oh,_  mmf—” He was on her again, spelling desire all along her neck, towering over her as his hair curtained the rest of the room from her view over his shoulder. Her neck ached against the awkward angle, halfway against the wall around her bed, hips pressed into the mattress, knees still bent off the edge and feet nearly planted against the ground.

“Go ahead.” His lips, strikingly hot, buzzing with energy, laid the words against her jaw. His nose pressed sweetly into her skin and she wanted to keep him there forever. “Embrace it, Allura.”

Mind hot, body hotter, she arched upward and spread her legs to either side of his own as he pulled open her uniform with one quick movement. His palm dipped low, smoothing the undershirt she’d learned to wear from the humans down against her stomach, laying flat against her body and pressing her hips even firmer into her cot; the other hand snaked down her side and halted along her thigh—

She felt the coil in her stomach, right beneath his hand. He pulled from her neck and sought her mouth once more as she opened to him, welcoming the slight texture of his tongue. There was so much of him—so much energy, so much _everything._ And she wanted all of it all at once. It couldn’t hurt, could it? It was just energy. Just quintessence. Just—

The thoughts flitted away as the hand along her thigh slipped between her legs; a knuckle dragged against her slit, clothed by the thick fabric of those damn human pants, and she whined, attempting to arch upward again. But his other hand, still on her stomach, pressed back down.

His lips pulled from hers with a _pop_ , and she suddenly missed the fangs she’d been tracing with her tongue. “Anything you wish, at your fingertips,” he breathed.

“You, you,” gasped Allura, and he slid another knuckle through her pants against her cunt. She jerked, delirious through the waves of quintessence, through the feel of him. The hand against her abdomen kept her in place, both thankfully and maddeningly.

Instead of running another finger between her legs, he slipped his claws along the waist of those awful trousers and slipped them down. “How you’ve missed this,” he murmured. “How I’ve missed you.”

She did. She did. She did she did she did she did she did.

“And I’m here now, Allura. You can always have me.” Lotor ducked his head low, marking the words against her clavicle. The trousers fell to wrap around her ankles by the floor. She could _curse_ the humans for these beyond frustrating underclothes.

Allura kicked off the trousers from her ankles, having to get rid of the boots while she was at it. He chuckled as she impatiently dragged him back toward her, letting a sigh escape from her lips that quickly turned into a hiss as he kissed and nipped lower and lower down her stomach. “Enjoy it, Allura.” He spoke into her skin with reverence, the type she dazedly remembered from nights inside the cockpit of the ship they’d built together in the bay when no one had been around. He would treat her like his empress. Her breath stuttered at the thought, the only clear thing through this haze of quintessence.

Lotor curved one claw along her undergarments and cleanly tore the thin fabric open. She had been nervous in front of him, once upon a time. But it was so long ago when he’d first been learning how the calluses on his fingers drew the moans from her lips. Here, in her small room aboard the Atlas, on the bed that was encased with a low ceiling and pressing, lifeless walls, a place that no matter how hard she tried would _never_ be home to her—

—she saw him retract a claw from his index finger and slide along the folds of her cunt and had to bite into the palm of her hand to reflexively keep herself quiet.

“ _Enjoy_ it, Allura,” said Lotor. “No one is here. Do not let that fear take it from you.” She breathed in, the shaky intake of air doing nothing to calm the pump of quintessence around her. As she settled, Lotor began to work at her again, his finger knowing exactly where she needed him to be. The benefits of hands that could lay flat over the entire width of her stomach were enormous, as she’d always found the drastic difference between him and her to curl her toes and make her see stars. Looking down, seeing his hand between her legs, his eyes drinking her in—it was messy, it was terrifying, and she didn’t know what she would do when it was over.

But Mother of Altea, it was home to her. And she’d missed it so much.

Allura told him as such, and the tempting, knowing smile on his lips softened for the briefest second.

“You deserve it, Allura,” he said, before he dipped forward and ran the length of his tongue along her cunt. Her lips opened into a gasp; he’d always had the most perfectly textured tongue, enough friction against her clit for her marks to begin glowing with a single stroke. The marks just above her pelvis sprung to life. Visions of a happy phoeb or two with Lotor after they’d first gone to Oriande flitted behind her eyes, where he would later spend time attempting to bring his marks—and her own—back to life. “Lotor—ah, L-Lotor. Look at me.”

He lifted his head up from between her legs, and though she missed the momentary lack of him working against her skin, it was worth it seeing the marks on his cheek shimmer back at her. He was just as affected as she was.

Lotor’s eyes lingered on her own, darting at the glowing marks over her cheeks. His eyes were hungry, his mouth parted so she could see her slickness shine against his lips, the slight peek of his fangs in the shadows of his mouth.

“Keep looking,” whispered Allura, and he did just that. His mouth met her pussy again, eyes locked straight onto her as he worked his tongue along her clit and his finger slipped into her and slowly began to pump. His forelock settled against the marks just above her pelvis, lighting with their glow, and he ignored it, focusing instead on how her moans grew louder, her keening higher. The coil in her stomach tightened and yet he continued, releasing her clit with another soft _pop_ before diving right back in. She felt, after a dobosh, another declawed finger stretch her further, delicious and endless and everything she’d wanted and missed. He fucked her on his hand until her hair had come undone and spilled over her shoulders and back, lapping her up even though she _knew_ she would never go dry—

Allura could hardly think straight, but it was enough to catch sight of the juniberry by her mirror. It was sinking low, barely any color left in it at all. Fright lit up into her fingertips. “More,” she managed. “ _You_. Hurry.”

He needed no other words. With a swift movement he withdrew and immediately lifted her up, settling her over the length of her minuscule bed. If she hadn’t been delirious with his presence and all of _this,_ she might have laughed at seeing him try to fit into the space with her, but she suspected he was devoted to remaining corporeal, and he would make it work; he laid her flat against her mattress and hovered over her, the lower half of his armor shimmering away into quintessence, leaving behind the swollen bulge she knew hid his cock, sheathed and sequestered away until she would coax it forward.

Muscle memory did the work for her, her hands gently massaging his cock out from its dripping home, eager as it had always been. It was always a work of art, pulling Lotor apart like this. His brows would furrow as she pressed center bottom of his sheath, knowing it would spark his marks brightly against his cheeks with the pressure. He would hiss and curl into her, whispers against his shoulder as she prepped his cock for herself, wrapping her legs around his hips, feeling one of his large hands settle behind the small of her back and keeping her there. With a groan, he pushed inside inch by inch, before laying open-mouthed kisses from her shoulder to her ear, purring low the further inside her he managed to get.

“You can do it,” he encouraged softly, before nibbling the shell of her ear. Allura quivered as she felt the hilt of his waiting knot press up against her before it slipped into her with her slickness. He filled her comfortably, hitting every part of her she knew would never be filled by anyone else. He was made for her. “Well done, Allura.”

The praise lit through her limbs, and she contracted, keeping him from moving; he groaned, hummed, and laid a sweet kiss to her mouth, rolling his hips into hers as his hand behind her kept them firmly together. The friction loosened her up and he smiled up at her, something raw and primal. Allura felt him pull out, growing emptier and emptier as he did, relishing as his knot squeezed back out of her with pressure.

When he thrust back into her, Allura nearly cried from the overwhelming sensation of it all. She'd felt this sort of thing before, back when they had been in the rift before everything had changed, when they'd been testing out their ship and had decided to take a break while collecting samples. It was a whole other experience in the rift, the way it fed into their pores and set every nerve on fire. Here, now, on the Atlas, she never thought she'd feel that alive ever again.

As he fucked into her, holding her hips securely against his with his hand behind her back, she didn't know how she would live without this.

Every slip of his swelling knot was something she wanted to remember forever. Every swipe of his thumb against her waiting clit sparked through her marks and flashed against her skin, drawing Lotor's attention to map out every single part of her with his eyes.

With a low groan, Lotor drew her closer, as close as he could fit them together in the small space above her bed. Her arms wrapped around his neck, biting her lip as his hips settled into a quick rhythm. There was no other sound in her room except for the shifting of her sheets, her heady panting and his _voice_ —“Go ahead, Allura, just like that”—and the exhales he made as she flexed around him to add that tang of friction just as he withdrew each time—

There was a light behind her eyes, from the quintessence, from _him,_ she didn’t know. “I’m close—I—”

“Come for me, Allura,” he whispered into her ear. Her hair tickled her skin, his warm breath sending molten waves through her head. Lotor moved one of her hands from around his neck down. With his hand over hers, he helped her swipe at her clit, his marks flashing as he did so. Ancients, he was beautiful.

And she was so, so close. The coil in her belly sprang up as Lotor thrust into her again and again and she cried out, arching into his chest. Allura could barely understand what he was saying, but it was endless praise, a relentless stream of what he’d always done. Her high simmered down. Stars, he was still moving, and she was so sensitive that it would only be another dobash before her marks would spark again—

—but the look on Lotor’s face was tight, his mouth pressed into a straight line, focused, as he still rode into her. Watching her. Devouring her.

“Allur— _ah_ ,” he managed, the tail end of her name succumbing to a moan as he sank into her and that beautiful knot filled her to her brim. She felt him hot, watching as his marks stuttered in time with his release. Allura bit her lip again, felt her muscles ripple, keeping him in place inside her, even though his knot would keep him from moving either way.

His hand slipped from her lower back, settling her back into her mattress, and he leaned over her with his forearms and pressed his forehead against hers. “You did a wonderful job, Allura,” said Lotor, in a voice so low and sweet that she wanted to bottle it up and carry it with her forever.

A shiver tickled over the exposed skin of her stomach. The quintessence was no longer as hot and filling as it had been. She peered at the juniberry by the mirror and felt her heart drop. It was all but wilted, the last fading color taunting her as she realized her time with him was almost up.

At that moment it hit her. He was _quintessence_ ; he was, for all intents and purposes, physically gone.

“You…” she began, and he lifted up slightly to give her more space. “You’re… dead.”

Lotor said nothing.

“Aren’t you?”

“I suppose I am,” he told her, the words slow.

She pushed herself upright, practically in his lap as he moved to help her up. His cock was still firmly inside her, after all. But all that aside, the questions filled her mind to the brim, now. “And I saw _Lance_ before I saw you. Was that you, too?”

His jaw worked. “It was. I did not wish to frighten you as you woke.”

“So you can take on any form you like.” It wasn’t a question. He waited, sensing there was more for her to say. “You didn’t come here just to _show me_ what we just did.”

“No,” said Lotor. “I had wished for you to consider the entity aboard this ship.”

“The _entity_?” said Allura, her limbs going cold. The shift in tone was dramatic and terrified her. “To fight Honerva?”

He nodded. Slivers of quintessence had begun to rise from him, flitting away into nothing. Her body objected, wanting to keep him firmly within her, but every part of him was vanishing. Before she could object, Lotor told her, “Go to the entity. I will be there.”

“I _can’t_ use that—that _thing,_ ” she said, even as the flecks of quintessence began to hurry in their departure. He was rapidly disappearing from her quarters. “No, no. Wait—”

“I will be there,” he said again, and she sank into the mattress again as his figure became no longer corporeal. The juniberry by the mirror was dead, color nowhere to be found in its petals.

Then he vanished.

Allura bit down onto her cheek, emptier as ever, eyes tracing the last particles of quintessence as they flickered out of sight. Her trousers were strewn along her floor, her undergarment torn and lying crumpled on her bed. She was sitting halfway uncomfortably on her belt and her hair was a disaster, she knew—and he wasn’t even _there._ She’d had him for a just a moment and was left even more affected than ever.

The one spare moment she’d had to herself all this time, and with the quintessence in her room to spare from the juniberry, and she could hardly be happy for it…  because she simply wanted _him_ back.

He would be with the entity, he said. Allura blinked and swallowed, running her hands into her hair and trying to keep herself calm. How long would everyone be at Clear Day? Vargas more, she was sure. Except she _couldn’t_ use the entity. She couldn’t.

Right?

But he would be there. In what form, she didn’t know.

She felt her fingers twitch with anticipation, the drive filling her to finally do something no one else was asking of her. Allura stood up, cleaned up her quarters and redressed, then glanced toward the juniberry.

Its wilted petals were the only evidence of who had been here.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic assumes that Allura isn't hallucinating him and that the visions she had in Clear Day are all him, including the two times she saw Lance. As for Honerva at the end of the vision, idk. Maybe that actually was Honerva. Who knows. 
> 
> Also implies that Lotor will only show up when Allura is completely alone and there is quintessence for him to use that isn't her, which means when she does accept the entity into her, it's basically an endless amount of quintessence and he can probably pop up whenever he wants to. But is the entity good or bad? Who the fuck knows.
> 
> thanks to lotura 18+ discord!  
> ps. I didn't realize this was my first published VLD fic. oof


End file.
